#this is only partly in jest

[hopecomesbacktolife]

I’m a religious syncretic, I love both Star Trek and LOTR ✨ you’re welcome to join me if ya want! we have:

-high holidays (threshold day, sub rosa day, middle-earth new year, hobbit day, 7/9 day, durin’s day, etc)

-sacred music (shire theme, star trek theme, rohan theme, stiv theme, edge of night, beyond antares, nature’s reclamation, etc)

-special foods (po-ta-toes, italian [food], strawberries with cream, mint juleps, appreciation for a good ale, etc)

-guiding principles (IDIC, valuing food+cheer+song above hoarded gold, equity and equal rights for all, friendship and love and hope, doing good for goodness’s sake, being true to yourself, science appreciation, gorgeous textiles, enjoying a simple/comforting life, nature conservation and respect, anticapitalism, etc)

-icons (uhura, arwen, spock, aragorn, frodo, ben sisko, kira nerys, eowyn, etc)

-beautiful lyrical texts (LOTR, the silmarillion, unfinished tales, the wounded sky, spock’s world, etc)

and more!

[the-silver-stone]

new granada holmes comfort episode unlocked (solitary cyclist my beloved)

[quiisquiliae]

Writing will return sooner than anticipated due to the abrupt end of our hockey team's playoff run this season. I'll be grieving for the next week and should return after.

[6esiree]

Jokingly Breaking Up With Them (Sad Ending)

Imagine jokingly breaking up with Alastor, Lucifer, Husk, Vox, and Adam? No happy ending this time, as requested ❤️‍🩹

Alastor:

When you jokingly told Alastor you wanted to break up, his body stiffened and his ears fell back against his head, shocked. Sure, he was inexperienced when it came to the whole romance thing, but to make him believe that you felt unsatisfied to the point that you’d rather leave him than try to fix whatever went wrong was just…awful, the distant feeling of loss and rejection enveloping his heart in a painfully tight embrace.

“I’m sorry?” Alastor said, his voice crackling as he slowly turned to look at you, his brows knitted together in confusion. “Am I really that insignificant, that…easily disposable to you?” He continued, “Tell me, dear, what did I do to make you deem our relationship unsalvageable?”

Regret immediately consumed you as you watched the smile he religiously wore threaten to fall, the corners of his mouth twitching downwards. What a stupid thing you’d done—the many long, grueling months of getting to know each other for him to even entertain the idea of dating at all flying out the window. You briskly approached him, reaching up to tenderly cradle his jaw, looking at him apologetically.

“Oh my goodness, Al, I’m so sorry,” You started, balancing yourself on your toes, fixing to peck his cheek. “It was a really shitty joke—I’ll never do it again, okay? I love you.” He turned his head away from you, however, your lips grazing his hair as he dodged your kiss.

Alastor partly blamed himself for missing the jesting tone behind your words, but at the same time, you had unintentionally reminded him what it felt like to lose something, or someone—like his mother—and he couldn’t forgive you for that. So, he grabbed your hands and pulled them away from his face, staring down at you with a distant look in his eyes as he stepped back. You mentally cursed at yourself, dread settling in your stomach.

“Perhaps we should spend some time apart,” Alastor said, unaffected by the pain that flashed across your features at his words. “Al, please—“ He held out a finger in front of you, immediately shushing you. “Save your breath, dear. You’ll need it for when we discuss our relationship later.”

Lucifer:

Oh, Lucifer immediately sunk onto his knees in front of you, a yelp escaping your throat as he clutched your hands in his, a pleading look on his face. For someone who frequently loved to joke around with you, you definitely felt rather stunned that he had somehow missed the unserious tone behind your words. But after Lilith just up and left him, he couldn’t handle the thought of losing the love of his life, not again.

“Wait, what? No, no, you can’t do this to me,” Lucifer said, bringing your knuckles in for a kiss, your heart plummeting into your stomach as you saw tears prick at his eyes. “I have no idea what I did wrong, honey, but believe me when I tell you that it wasn’t my intention to hurt you.”

He continued to ramble on about how much he loved you, and that he’d do anything to make up for whatever had prompted you to suddenly want to end the relationship, your guilt growing stronger with every word that shakily seeped past his lips. You snapped out of it when Lucifer started to panic, joining him on the ground and grabbing his face, shutting him up with a kiss; but instead of calming him down, you confused him.

“Oh, Luci, I didn’t mean that,” You said after you pulled away, an embarrassed blush creeping up his neck as you ran your thumb across his cheekbone, wiping away his tears. “Huh?” Lucifer stuttered. “I’m so sorry, I’ll never joke with you like that again—it wasn’t even funny. I love you.”

Lucifer pulled away from you, shaking his head in what you could only assume was disbelief. Now it was your turn to panic, your eyes widening as he stood up and stared down at you with furrowed brows. You tried to reach for his hands, but he quickly clasped them behind his back, pain and betrayal etched onto his usually cheerful features. While he wanted to forgive and forget your poor attempt at a joke, he just couldn’t do it.

“I don’t even know what to tell you,” Lucifer said, refusing to look at you in fear that he would fold at your pleading expression. “I didn’t mean to hurt you—what can I do to make this right?” Your voice wavered as you stood up, but for once in his life, he couldn’t come to a decision.

Husk:

You wanted to what? Break up with him? Husk chuckled, until he started to wonder if he’d said or done anything to you in one of his drunken stupors—or maybe that was the issue, his heart sinking into his stomach as he looked up at you. Before you, his love life had practically been nonexistent, far too gone into his addictions to provide somebody the proper amount of love and care, but then you came into his life.

“Did I, uh, do sumthin’ to upset you?” Husk asked, trying to appear calm and collected, but his ears betrayed him by falling back against his head. God, he hated his stupid body. “Is it the drinkin’? ‘Cause I drink a little bit less since you and I, ya know, but if that isn’t good enough—“

You blinked, surprised that the wise old bartender hadn’t seen straight through your bullshit. He was so good at reading people, but as you watched him subtly blame himself for whatever it was you wanted to break up over, you realized Husk was secretly afraid of not being good enough for you. You leaned over the counter with a ‘Hey, Husker baby,’ placing a hand over his, your thumb soothingly running across his knuckles.

“It was a shitty joke, trust me,” You started, but that didn’t comfort him at all, a frown overtaking his features. “Oh, and I did notice that you’ve toned down on your drinking since we started dating. I love you—thank you for trying for me, seriously.”

Husk scoffed and offered you a half-hearted ‘You’re welcome,’ pulling back his clawed-hand from yours. Your heart plummeted into your stomach as he wordlessly picked up a dirty glass and a rag, resuming his job. ‘I’m so sorry,’ You said, and he would have happily forgotten your joke if you hadn’t opened your mouth again, almost shattering the glass as he slammed it down onto the counter, making you flinch.

“Shit, sorry, didn’t mean to lose my temper,” Husk mumbled, dropping his head before eventually asking you to give him some space. “Like, for how long?” You tentatively asked. “I don’t know, doll. We’ll talk about it after my shift is over, alright?” You sighed in resignation, getting up and leaving.

Vox:

No, you couldn’t leave him, not when you knew what to expect when you started dating the media tycoon. Vox completely brushed over the fact that you weren’t being serious, patting his thigh and inviting you to sit on his lap with a stern ‘Come here,’ believing that you had made such an awful joke because deep down, you were unhappy with how little time he spared you with his hectic work schedule. But that wasn’t the case at all.

“You know, sweetheart, you don’t have to resort to crappy jokes to tell me that you’re unhappy,” Vox said, his claws affectionately caressing your hipbone, eyes trained on his monitors. “We’re both adults, aren’t we?” He used his other hand to tauntingly boop your nose.

Because of Vox’s nonchalant attitude, you couldn’t help but feel bothered. You folded your arms and narrowed your eyes at him, expressing your displeasure, but that didn’t sway him at all. Rather, he rolled his eyes at your childish display, pinching your skin through the fabric of your shirt and eliciting a yelp from you, a toothy grin spreading across his face. You grabbed his screen and made him look at you.

“Hey, asshole, can you at least pretend to care?” You sputtered, feeling utterly humiliated as he tossed his head back with a laugh. “Alright, fuck you,” You huffed, hopping off of his lap and fixing to leave his office, but he just couldn’t let you leave without getting the last word.

Vox manifested in front of you, a displeased look on his face as he leaned down to your level, his hands clasped behind his back. ‘Did I say you could leave?’ He asked, your nostrils flaring and your face flushing in your state of irritation. He opened his mouth to say something else, but then his assistant suddenly knocked at his office door with a, ‘Sir? I don’t mean to bother you, but something important just came up.’

“I’ll be there in just a second!” Vox called back, standing up at his full height and straightening his shoulders. You visibly relaxed at that. “We’ll continue our…discussion after this,” He said, and with a snap of his fingers, he zapped you into your room. You sat on the bed, crying in frustration.

Adam:

A laugh—that’s what you received in response to jokingly breaking up with Adam. But when you stood there, staring up at him with a serious expression, he awkwardly coughed and turned his head to the side. He tried to recount your most recent interactions, desperate to figure out what had prompted you to want to leave him all of a sudden, feeling himself spiraling when he came up with nothing but petty little arguments.

“Uhhh, well, are you gonna fucking elaborate or…?” Adam sputtered, turning back to look at you, gesturing wildly with his hands. While he managed to keep himself composed for the most part, his heart was rapidly beating against his ribcage. “Come on, babe, I can’t read your mind!”

You dropped your facade as soon as he started to rapidly blink, guilt immediately enveloping your heart at the thought of him tearing up. Yeah, Adam could be an asshole, but he was still your partner. ‘Oh, fuck,’ You said, reaching for his hands and bringing him in for an embrace. He jumped, confused, but he didn’t push you away. You buried your face in his chest, your arms wrapped firmly around his plush waist.

“I’m so sorry, baby, it was a shitty joke,” You admitted, a ‘What!?’ seeping past his lips. Adam grabbed your face and made you look up at him, squeezing your cheeks. “I love you, I was just trying to get back at you—“ He cut you off with a scoff, making you flush in embarrassment.

Adam was absolutely livid. He had already dealt with losing Lilith and Eve to the same individual, and now you? The thought pained him, and he couldn’t help but wonder why on God’s green earth you’d make such a joke knowing that. He relinquished your face, turning on his heel and looking for his mask, angry tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. You started to panic, dread filling your heart as you followed after him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” Adam exploded when he felt you grab his wrist. “I’m sorry—it’s just—“ He struggled to express himself, feeling apologetic for making you cower beneath him. “I’m gonna go stay with Lute,” You tried to protest, but he stormed out before you could.

Taglist:

@cosmiiwrites @pumppkinlynn @spookieroz @gxstiess @polyo-nym-y @vvzhyxx @shinynewboots @freakyfrye @leonotlara @angelicribbons

[suashii]

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ 𝒢𝒪𝒪𝒟 𝑀𝒪𝑅𝒩𝐼𝒩𝒢, 𝒮𝒰𝒩𝒮𝐻𝐼𝒩𝐸 — waking up beside them

info ⭑ includes: gojo satoru, geto suguru, itadori yuuji, fushiguro megumi ﾉ fluff :3

✰ GOJO rises with the sun which means that he’s almost always up before you. as the birds chirp outside the window and the heater kicks on with its constant hum, satoru takes the seldom moment of peace to watch your sleeping figure. you’ve wiggled your way out of his arms, only partly in his hold, lying so that you’re partially facing him on your side but in the process of rolling over onto your back. he’s tempted to close the gap, pull you close and hug you against his chest but you look too comfortable to rouse. the warm, bright rays of sunlight peek through the curtains and cast an angelic glow on half of your face. he can’t help it when his hand reaches out, lithe fingers tracing the lines of your jaw, from just beneath your ear all the way down to your chin. your eyelashes flutter against the tops of your cheeks as you begin to stir, smiling upon meeting satoru’s familiar cerulean irises. hand moving up to caress your cheek, he jokes about how lucky you are to wake up to such a handsome face every morning but behind his jesting words and signature smirk, he knows it’s the other way around. he’s the one who hit the jackpot.

✰ GETO often finds it difficult to sleep through the entire night which means he’s up while you’re still resting. he doesn’t like the thought of disturbing you so, instead of feeling around for his phone or sneaking off to the kitchen, he stays put beside you in bed. your back is facing him, unobstructed by the fabric of a shirt. he reaches out to touch you faintly, just barely making contact with your soft skin. his middle finger hovers, following the curve of your spine from your neck all the way down to the dip of your lower back. for as long as you’re still sleeping, suguru occupies himself by languidly outlining pretty patterns across your back. you wake to his feathery touch, stretching out your arms and legs before rolling over to face him. suguru greets you with a smile, his face framed by thick pieces of hair that escaped his loose bun sometime last night. you tell him good morning through a yawn as you stroke the rogue strands of hair. the both of you spend the rest of your time in bed planning the day ahead while your fingers detangle the ends of his inky hair and his fingers continue to aimlessly draw lines across the blank canvas of your back.

✰ YUUJI is a clingy sleeper; there’s never a morning when you don’t wake up to him wrapped around you like a koala bear, serving as a second blanket. you wouldn’t be able to move even if you tried, but you don’t attempt to leave his arms for a while after you wake. you cherish the warmth he envelops you in. it’s comfortable enough that you can feel yourself slipping back into a restful slumber, but you fight the urge to fall back asleep. the moment you shift as though you plan on getting up from bed, yuuji’s arms tighten around your midsection and he lets out a sleepy groan in protest. stay a little longer, he pleads, the warmth of his breath sending a chill down your spine and making the hairs on the back of your neck stand. it’s impossible to say no to him on most occasions but it’s especially difficult with that morning voice of his. so you stay put and let him snuggle into you. you can feel the smile tugging at his lips as he presses light, soft kisses to your neck and shoulders. his affection is distracting and by the time you get a glimpse of the clock, it’s long past the time you had planned on getting up.

✰ MEGUMI sleeps peacefully, as though he isn’t plagued by a problem in the world. it’s one of the few moments you can be certain he’s free from the stress that seems to follow him during the day. because he looks so tranquil, you can’t help but take a few minutes to look at him after you wake up; his pink parted lips and the long, thick lashes that brush the tops of cheeks. dark strands of hair fall over his face and you almost reach out to push them back when his gravelly voice cuts through the serene air. are you going to stare at me all morning? he asks, eyes still shut, words jumbled since his cheek is pressed up against his arm. you smile, telling him that maybe you just might. his eyes are open by now and the sleepy blue orbs meet yours. despite his words, he doesn’t mind your lingering gaze. megumi finds comfort in being the subject of your stare; not for some selfish reason like being the only person you look at in such a way, but because he can feel every ounce of love behind your eyes. and so, without any objection, he lets you comb his unruly hair back with your fingers, never once taking his eyes off of you or the warm smile you wear while doing so.

hai, it's your friendly neighborhood sua! thank you for giving this a read! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment! much love from me to you ❤︎

[cosmos-coma]

Sick Days- Geralt

Pairing: Geralt x Reader

Words: ~1.1k

Summary: You refuse to tell Geralt that you're sick and so he has to find out the hard way

__________________________________

“How are you doing back there, Y/n?” Geralt called back to you, he and Roach taking the lead on this narrow path.

The partly cloudy afternoon was more than welcome to you compared to the rain you had pushed through all day yesterday. And the day before. Ugh. 

Honestly, you liked rain as a whole, but the added chill in the air and the absolute soaking of your jacket left you feeling tired, feverish, and sniffly. You dared not let Geralt know that you were growing sick, the deadline to get to Novigrad was drawing closer and you refused to be the cause for missing it.

“Yep, yeah, I’m okay back here…” you lied. Your vision had begun spinning and your vision started lagging behind your eyes about 10 minutes ago. Your light tunic clung to your skin as your fever made you sweat relentlessly. Your various layers were laying across your horse in an unceremonious heap where you had left them and- wait, did you lose a jacket along the way? Hmm, you couldn't remember.

You let out a soft hum as a faint breeze cooled your skin and gave you a moment of relief from the sweltering heat.

 “Y/n?” Geralt called out to you, “did you hear what I said?”

“Hm? Oh, no… what were you saying?” Your eyes closed as you tried to listen, your ears only picking up garbled noises. You could feel your body begin to get to tired to hold itself together, but you had to fight through it. 

“Hmm, That’s interesting… “ you replied- well you're pretty sure that’s what you said. You… couldn’t be sure right now. Your consciousness filled with nothing more than a dense fog you couldn't seem to fan away. 

“Yes very interesting…” you slurred out as your mind finally forced your body to shut down and everything went dark.

“Y/n, you’re not making any sense- shit..!” Geralt turned just in time to see you fall off your horse with a great big THUD. A pathetic groan was the last sound your barely conscious body sent out as Geralt yelled again and ran to your limp body. 

“Y/n?” he shook you, “Fuck… and you’re burning up,” he commented and swiftly picked you up, your skin blazing and burning against his. “Let’s get you to an Inn, we’re done traveling for today…”

You woke up on clean linens, your body stripped down to its underclothes and covered in damp washcloths to keep you cool. “Hmm, Geralt...?” you grunted out as you sat up, rolled up cloth falling from your forehead, “Oh- nope, no, no, no... too dizzy…” you sighed and promptly laid down again. 

“Welcome back, sleeping beauty…” Geralt jested and sat on the edge of the bed- his expression slowly changing to something more sincere, his voice quieting as he urged you to take in the seriousness of his words. “You scared me back there… why didn’t you tell me that you were sick..? That you had a fever..?”

Your mouth opened and closed as you tried to find an adequate explanation, but it never came.

“You could have died if you’d fallen over a cliff's edge…if your head had hit rocks…” Geralt couldn’t even meet your eyes as he talked- instead opting to replace the damp cloths on your forehead. “You’re not as hearty as a Witcher is- you know that.” 

You frowned, feeling more and more like a scolded child as he spoke to you. You shook your head and glanced outside instead of anywhere near this conversation. 

“Y/n...” Geralt sighed, knowing exactly what you were doing, “Dear heart..?” he tried once more, finally catching your gaze. 

“I don’t mean to make your softness such a flaw- you know it's exactly what pulled me into you in the first place..” A small smile crept over his features as he briefly remembered your first meeting. “But you need to let me know when to slow down, okay? Remind me now and then to be a little softer too,” he spoke so quietly that you were sure nothing else in the world could have heard him but you. 

Your own expression reflected his smile and his whispered words fluttered around your heart “I will… I promise.” your fingers reached out for his, searching around until they captured his touch. “Oh, how long have I been out? We need to keep going” you urged, using your aching arm to bring his hand up to your lips in a soft kiss before you struggled to pull yourself upright.

But Geralt only laughed and shook his head as he helped you sit up, “now I see where Ciri gets her endless determination from- neither of you wants to stop for a minute to take care of yourselves.”

“We learned it from YOU, Geralt…” you grinned, sniffling as your nose threatened to run. 

Eyes rolling, his smile became even wider. “Anyways… I mean to say that you shouldn’t worry about it… we’ve been making good time, we can spare a day to let you rest and recover.” 

You nodded and relaxed a bit more, rolling your shoulder and cracking your back as you tried to get comfortable. “Good… Good, I really can’t fall off like that again. I feel like I just slammed shoulder-first into a shaelmaar…”

“I bet,” Your witcher snorted, a knowing smile hiding behind your hand as he brought it up to kiss in return. “Do you think some desert would make that shoulder feel any better?”

“Hmmmmmm, I think it’s a good start… that might help being sick but maybe you can rub my shoulder later..?” you grinned, knowing you were pushing it, but that hadn’t failed you yet. 

A genuine laugh pulled itself from Geralt as he stood, audible and even forming a faint crease around his eyes. For a witcher, it might as well have been a full belly laugh the way their stoic expressions dampen everything. 

You beamed and watched your handsome witcher as he headed off to get you dessert. You wouldn’t be surprised if his heart was as golden and lovely as his eyes were.  “Hey, Geralt? I love you…” 

“I love you too, Dear heart… no matter how soft you make me.” He said with a smile as he came back to your side and leaned down to press a sweet kiss against your lips.

______________________________

Taglist: @writingmysanity @open--till--midnight @dark-academia-slut @madamemelancholysstuff

[rosyrosethings]

Assistant Prank CEO Harry

This is series on my page. Harry's assistant stays with him.

On a seemingly ordinary Friday, the atmosphere in Harry and Y/n's shared residence was tinged with a sense of bittersweet anticipation. Harry, known for his meticulous nature and a deep sense of responsibility towards those he cared about, was preparing for a rare weekend getaway. His destination was a cozy retreat in the countryside, where he planned to spend some quality time with his girlfriend, Bridget. This trip was a much-needed break from his demanding work schedule, offering a chance to recharge and nurture his personal relationships.

However, this departure was marked by an unusual heaviness, primarily because it meant leaving Y/n alone in the house. Y/n was not just a housemate but played a crucial role in Harry's life, managing the balance between a confidante and a responsibility he felt deeply for. The thought of leaving her alone, even for a weekend, didn't sit well with him, stirring a protective instinct that he often found hard to dismiss.

“Y/n, text me if anything goes wrong, okay?” Harry implored, his voice laced with concern as he slipped into his coat, ready to step out into the brisk morning air.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, Mr. Styles. I’ll be fine. I’ve been here alone before,” Y/n responded, her tone light and teasing, aiming to inject a bit of humor into the heavy atmosphere. She approached Harry, extending his bag towards him with a gentle smile. “I packed your laptop because God knows what would happen to you if you don’t work for one second out of the day,” she added, her voice soft yet playful, aware of Harry's relentless work ethic.

Harry couldn't help but smile, a genuine expression of gratitude and fondness. “Bye, Y/n,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of reluctance to leave.

As the door closed behind him, Y/n secured the lock and made her way to the living room, sinking into the couch with a sense of solitude enveloping her. To distract herself, she decided to scroll through TikTok, letting the endless stream of videos wash over her. It wasn't long before she stumbled upon a prank trend that immediately sparked an idea. The premise was simple yet mischievously effective: texting someone “you can come over now, he’s gone,” implying a clandestine meeting now that an obstacle—typically a significant other or a parent—was out of the picture. Chuckling at the thought, Y/n couldn't resist the urge to execute this playful scheme on Harry.

‘You can come over now babe, my boss is gone.’

She sent the message, a giggle escaping her lips as she imagined Harry's reaction, picturing his bewildered face trying to decode the message.

Harry, meanwhile, was only ten minutes away, his mind partly on the road and partly entwined with thoughts of Bridget and the weekend ahead. His phone buzzed with a notification, a text from Y/n. Assuming he had forgotten something at home, he glanced at the message, his eyes widening in disbelief. The words on the screen seemed to rearrange themselves, challenging his understanding. “Is she having someone over? And did she call them babe?” he muttered to himself, confusion and concern taking hold.

Without a second thought, Harry executed a swift U-turn, ignoring the chorus of honks from startled drivers. His mind raced with possibilities, each more unsettling than the last. Upon arriving back at the house, he entered to find Y/n lounging on the couch, her eyes meeting his with an innocent curiosity.

“Were you expecting someone else?” Harry inquired, his voice carrying a mix of jest and underlying seriousness as he approached her.

“No, why would I?” Y/n replied, her tone playful yet genuine, puzzled by the intensity of his reaction.

“Then why did you send me a text saying, ‘you can come over now, my boss is gone’?” Harry pressed, seeking clarity amidst the confusion.

“Because I thought it would be funny to see your reaction,” Y/n confessed, a giggle punctuating her words as she sat up, her eyes dancing with mischief.

Harry, however, was not immediately appeased. The protective instinct that had made him uneasy about leaving surged stronger. “Actually, I’m staying here. Bridget can come over here. I don’t want any boys coming around here,” he declared, a firm resolve setting in as he removed his coat, symbolically dismissing the prospect of leaving.

“Mr. Styles, it was a prank,” Y/n tried to clarify, her tone softening, attempting to bridge the sudden gap Harry's reaction had created.

“Yeah, okay. Now your night is with me instead of with your mysterious man,” Harry countered, half-teasing yet half-serious, as he settled next to her on the couch.

“You’re such a dad,” Y/n remarked, a blend of affection and exasperation in her voice.

“No, I just don’t want any mystery men around what's mine without me being here,” Harry retorted, his comment laced with a deeper, unspoken layer of concern.

“Or do you not want any men around me?” Y/n probed, her gaze locking with his, a challenge in her eyes.

“Aren’t you mine? I think what I said the first time makes sense,” Harry responded, his words hanging in the air, a mix of possessiveness and care mingled in his tone.

“My assistant, I mean,” he quickly added, clearing his throat, realizing the weight of his words and the ambiguity they carried.

“Oh, assistant, is that what you meant?” Y/n teased, her voice dripping with sarcasm, yet a soft smile played on her lips.

“Yeah, assistant,” Harry affirmed, the exchange leaving a tangible tension, a mix of amusement and unresolved feelings lingering between them.

[ghostofnuggetspast]

Army Discretion

His mates hold a truth to their chests It's not theirs to share, even in jests They know that he covers All genders of lovers But John's careful, covert in his quests

Having thought about this a bit more over dinner, I should clarify they're only discreet about the men. And maybe partly because he's got a mean left hook.

There's more on Ao3.

@totallysilvergirl @calaisreno @friday411 @weeesi

[the1975attheirverybest]

A Strange Encounter

A/N: requested Matty X writer OC is finally here. Sorry about the delay. Idk if this is a longer fic soft launch or not. Just a thing I wrote

Warnings: none

———-

Matty swore he could feel the sweat running down his back. He glanced around the room, his anxiety rising as he failed to spot any of the faces that he’d expected to see here tonight. He’d spent the better part of the year wearing ties onstage, but, for some reason, in this moment, his tie felt suffocating. He loosened it slightly but quickly fixed it back up, feeling like a fish out of water at this charity event.

Scanning the room for a quiet place to take refuge in, he spotted the open bar and rushed towards it.

“Thank fuck,” he mumbled to himself rushing in the direction of the free alcohol. As he approached the bar, he became aware of a solitary person, a woman, sitting atop one of the barstools, her back towards him, drinking alone. She turned around as she felt him get closer, giving him a polite nod.

He nodded in return, flashing her a quick smile.

“What can I get you, sir?” the bartender offered.

Matty almost ordered a glass of wine, but, on a whim, he turned towards the woman instead, “what’re you having?” he gestured towards her glass.

“A Cherry lime tequila.”

“is it any good?”

She nodded.

Matty turned back to the bartender. “I’ll have what she’s having, please.” He sat at the other end of the bar, losing his battle against the tie.

Moments later, the bartender returned with Matty’s drink in hand. The woman watched, out of the corner of her eye, as Matty whispered a polite ‘thank you,’ and took a sip of his drink. She noticed his face scrunching as the drink pour down his throat.

“How is it?” She asked, pressing her lips together to hide her amused smile.

“G- uhh- good.” Matty lied. “I’m Matty, by the way.” He moved one bar stool closer.

“Claire.”

He smiled softly, thinking of the next thing to say.

“So…Claire, what’s your vibe?”

“My- vibe?”

Matty swore he could see her skin physically crawl. He giggled, embarrassed. “That- is the dumbest thing that I’ve ever said in my entire life.”

Something about the way that he could instantly poke fun at himself without looking self-conscious softened her towards him.

“Let me try this again. Like an adult: you hear for the writers’ charity thing?”

“I am.”

“Me too!” His tone was a bit more enthusiastic than he’d hoped. “I’m a songwriter.” He offered up, calmer now, adjusting his demeanor. “Never been to one of these things before. To be honest, I kind of hate them. Fuckin rich people trying to make themselves feel better about the dystopian world that they’re partly to blame for by hosting fuckin fundraisers and chairing charitable foundations.”

Claire took a sip of her half empty glass, nodding as Matty spoke.

“So, what about you. You a writer too?”

She smiled, “yeah, I am. Fiction, though.”

She could see a light flash across his face. He leaned in closer, “that’s fuckin cool. Anything I might have read?”

“No.”

Matty frowned at her immediate, emphatic answer. “Why- not? Are you not any good?”

“Oh, I am. I just…” she adjusted her feet underneath her, sitting up straight.

“Just what?”

“Just don’t think it’s the kind of fiction that you would read.”

Matty’s lips parted, ready for a retort, but none came. After a moment of silence, he finally thought of something. “You’ve only just met me. You don’t know what kind of fiction I read.” His tone has an edge to it, but he remained composed.

“Oh, but I do- guys like you- the hair gel, the

loose tie, the general aversion to formal settings…you probably read Jack Kerouac and Kurt Vonnegut, and, like, David Foster Wallace.”

“Ha! Jokes on you. I’ve never read Vonnegut.”

His response caught her off guard, making her laugh.

“But, yeah I’ve read On The Road….and yeah I like David Foster Wallace.”

She had a triumphant look on her face. “Pale

King?”

“No, Infinite Jest, actually.” Matty watched her expression shift again. His turn to feel triumphant.

“You’ve read all of Infinite Jest?” She whispered, as if the revelation were some kind of secret.

“Twice.”

She studied him closely, pleased with the unexpected turn of their conversation.

“And…” Matty took a sip of his drink. “For your information, I also like Joan Didion, and Virginia Woolf, and Flannery O’Connor.”

She giggled, taking Matty aback by the effect that the sound of her laughter had on him. He looked away from his drink instantly, eyes focused on her.

“So you’re saying you’re not a complete cliche?”

He nodded. “Well, what about you, then? What kind of fiction do you like?”

Her lips curved into a smile as she heard his question, she leaned in to meet him halfway, but before she could speak, a well-dressed member of the venue staff approached her and whispered into her ear, pointing to the watch on his wrist.

She nodded, turning back to Matty with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, if you’ll excuse me, I- I’m afraid I have to go. It was a pleasure meeting you, Matty.”

For the second time tonight, Matty found himself speechless. He wanted to say something, anything at all, but when his lips parted, no sound came out. Instead, he watched her walk away, getting smaller and smaller the further she got away from him.

***

The rest of the night droned on as Matty attempted to make polite conversation with screenwriters, journalists, and authors of various kinds around his table. He couldn’t help pulling out his phone to check the time, every time there was a lull in conversation.

In front of him, the event organizer stepped onstage announcing that the last speaker of the night was up next. It would be the host of the fundraiser and chair of the organization, Claire Jones.

Matty’s head whipped around, looking up from his phone and watching as Claire took the stairs from the side of the stage, walking towards the lectern.

He recalled the snide comments that he’d made to her about his disdain for these kinds of events and the people who organize them. He felt embarrassed. She must think he’s a complete asshole. Unsure if he should be looking at her, or how to control his facial expressions appropriately, he decided he’d be better off staring at his shoes until her speech.

Matty thought that, realistically, her speech couldn’t have been more than a few minutes long, but it felt like ages. He struggled to even register her words as his own echoed in his head. He sat there, wondering if he should apologize, wondering if it mattered, if she cared one way or the other, and wondering why he cared so much.

The sound of applause filled the room, Claire Jones stepped off the stage, esteemed guests began to move around tables and mingle, shaking hands with each other, hugging, catching up, and exchanging numbers.

By the time that Matty had made his way to the other end of the room, Claire was nowhere to be found. He walked the perimeter of the room a couple of times, hoping to spot her, but when he failed to find her, he defeatedly meandered towards the exit, sticking his hand into his pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

The nighttime breeze was merciful on his face. He hadn’t realized that he’d felt suffocated until he’d made it outside. He stood on the sidewalk, leaning against the building, smoking his cigarette. He was surprised to find himself disappointed that he’d never see Claire again.

[sebastianmichaelisslander]

my good friend i'm curious. because i am Very Normal about characters and i know you are also Very Normal about characters i would like to know. is there any kuro character you love enough/have enough thoughts about to write an essay on them? and why? because i know we have many characters we both love and some we disagree on i'd love to hear a bit of in-depth stuff about your faves!!

I am so, so, very glad I received this ask 😭🙏🏼💐 you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for something like this!!!

Alright, I’m going to talk about one of my comfort characters: Mey-Rin.

And as this blog is for (semi-jokingly) slandering Sebastian, let me begin by saying that Seabass absolutely does not deserve this girl:

I mean, just look at her. 😭🙏🏼

Where do I begin?

First off, I feel like she’d be sharper and more perceptive than she gets credit for. I don’t buy that she doesn’t suspect a thing about Sebastian. She’d know something is very, very off about him from the start, even if he does show her kindness she’s seldom experienced before. I also think that’s the reason she wouldn’t have acted upon the crush she had on him - not just because she isn’t sure of his own feeling towards her, but also because something tells her it wouldn’t end well.

These observational skills are also partly why she’s more emotionally intelligent than she thinks. She truly is the mum friend - very helpful, very protective, and always someone you can come to with your problems. If you’ve noticed, she’s fretting over Finny, Bard, Ciel and Seb at several points in the manga. I also see her as the sort who worries more than she should, especially about those she cares for. This would also make her quite the overthinker - the sort to worry about stuff after it happens as she’s often in situations where she needs to act in the moment.

Although she’s primarily a long-range fighter, I do think she’d know her stuff when it comes to hand-to-hand combat - enough to help her in sticky situations. She’s lived on the streets for a lot of her formative years, so she would know how to remain aware of her surroundings and have a mean right hook. I also write her as more assertive than in canon. Partly because I wish we got to see her shine more, and partly because I think it would be a given if you look at her backstory and what all she’s had to survive.

I also enjoy portraying her as the sort who lowkey has a sassy side, but only once she gets comfortable enough with the person for them to know it’s all in jest coming from her. She’d make a wisecrack and then apologise for roasting them. 😂😭

Now, going back to her and Sebastian because I still have more to say: I’m also not a Sebamey shipper as I don’t like how quite a few fics shipping her with Sebastian portray her as his doormat or some damsel in distress 😭 but even if that’s not the case, just the fact that it’s a canon possibility he’d use her just as he used Beast lowkey puts me off. I’ll still read fics in which he’s a good partner to her, though - they’re fun.

I also like to think that while she is infatuated with Sebastian at first, it eventually turns into an “I admire him and aspire to be as good at my job” sort of thing. I think she developed a crush on him because he was one of the few men who showed her genuine kindness - even if it’s part of his act. I think most of the men she’s come across were the opposite - and that she’d also had some genuinely scary experiences with them (which I have implied in my works with her). I also don’t think she’d trust them in a hurry, even if she appears unbothered by men she meets at first.

About her life after she starts working at the manor: much like any other woman, all she wants is to feel desirable, especially when she gets to dress and live as one properly.

I also think that she’s a romantic at heart who loves the idea of finding someone who loves her for who she is, although she probably feels it’s all but a pipe dream. I think she’s probably had an experience or two before - probably fleeting ones. Living out most of her life pretending to be a man meant she didn’t have many opportunities at all for this sort of thing, even on the down low. So she hasn’t had any proper experiences with romance. I’m remembering the panel in which she’s extremely flustered after Ronald flirts with her, saying that’s the first time she’s been hit on. I like to interpret that as her feeling like this is the first time someone has made genuine romantic advances towards her.

As for her hobbies and any other interests outside of her job… I don’t know why, but I see her as the artsy kind with humanities girl energy. She seems like the sort who’d be a great artist and surprisingly good at painting. I also like to think she’d try to read more after Sebastian teaches her how to, often using a small part of her wages to buy novels (she loves both the macabre ones and the sappy romantic ones, lol). She’d underline any word she doesn’t know, probably asking Sebastian what it means later on.

I’d like to know more about her pastimes, likes, dislikes, and her as a character overall in canon as well. There’s still potential to expand upon a great deal.

That’s it for now on her! I’m going to do Othello next 😂 and then Ludger, mayhaps - or William and Grelle. My brain isn’t working today, so apologies for any vagueness or if I didn’t explain myself too clearly dhfjdkdb 😭

[inbarfink]

It is kind of telling that this woman Simon meet one time by chance suddenly decided to drop everything to follow him on a expedition to find an artifact that might not even exist after a single, pretty short, conversation, and he just... doesn't question it for a moment and goes "Okay!".

@clueless-rarito

Yeeeep, you hit that right on the money! Especially since his 'offer' for her to come was clearly done as, like, kind of a joke. He said that in jest

But Betty, in her infatuation with Doctor Petrikov and, like, general impulsiveness, saw this an opportunity and just leapt at it.

And Simon went along with it, partly because he's just too passive against Betty's incredible forwardness to be like "Hey, um, what about your own study tour you literally just mentioned? That also sounds important.....Also I don't know you." and also because Betty gave him a whole bunch of Validation that he seldom ever gets.

Like, that's the reason for that whole "THEY LAUGHED AT ME AT THE UNIVERSITY" plot beat in this flashback.

Betty was one of the few people to actually appreciated Simon's work and like... talked about him like he's this great brilliant researcher ("THE Simon Petrikov") and that was a mega-shot of validation he probably never got before. Yet another reason why he was so quick to take her up on that offer despite all the red flags.

And also, Betty being his first and often only source of Validation is probably the main reason why Simon's self image plummeted after Betty 'left' him and caused him to develop his own self-sacrificial tendencies.

[attorneys-against-court-violence]

Let's talk about this moment real quick. Spoilers for Dual Destinies, especially the final case:

I've made me jests, but...

Athena isn't confused here because she's stupid.

She's confused because she's spent the better part of 7 years training, studying, and fighting her inner demons for the sole purpose of saving Simon. He was (and still is) one of the most important people in her life and now he's saying that it isn't? After all of this?

Simon is a key part of Athena's trauma, that he'd go and throw his life away for seemingly no reason at all (her memories of UR-1 blocked out with only the grim setting of the courtroom he was sentenced to death in being vivid). Her mother was dead, Aura was no doubt incandescent and wondering why Simon is covering for the true killer, and she was sent to Europe away from her friend Juniper (though they did exchange letters).

The day Phoenix inspired her to pursue a career as an attorney, she had some way of reaching out to and maybe even saving someone she knew from her past. The last tether to happier days in the Space Centre before UR-1, one that knew and forged a strong student-master bond with her mother Metis Cykes. Fighting hard to break out of her shell and become as physically and mentally strong as she could. She says as much during her conversation with him above, and to Phoenix & Pearl in the detention centre earlier that day/

She practically changed her entire personality over that period of time to be as strong as she possibly could be - enough that her childhood friend didn't recognise her at first:

All driven by a desire to salvage what she saw as a terrible mistake. If she could save this one person from her past, then perhaps they'll both have a chance at making peace with what happened that day.

With how well Simon knew the Cykes - seeing them for more than their stoic and awkward exteriors - it's fair to say they were familiar with one another. Athena's fixation on him is partly a result of trauma, yes, but it also speaks to unspoken happy memories of this black-clad dork who visits her mother and seems to understand her better than most anyone else did... even compared to her mother, it felt at times.

And he does understand her, knowing how to push and test her abilities in court and forming silent plans to catch the phantom together despite spending 7 years apart.

One of the bad endings for Turnabout for Tomorrow - where they fail to crack Simon's testimony - mentions that Athena left the office after the fact. Ignoring that they skipped over Clay's trial for a moment, we hear that Apollo and Phoenix take this event rather poorly, yet we don't hear a peep about Athena:

I can only speculate. Maybe that's the point; leaving us to wonder what Athena did after she failed to save Simon from his execution date. I'm sure Simon died reassuring himself about how Athena no longer has to bear the guilt for her mother's death. But I doubt that's any comfort given her intense reaction to re-living memories of failing to save him the first time.

Near and dear. Again. She's already failed to save someone she describes as near and dear - on par with Juniper at least - and she's left frozen in shock at the prospect of failing a second time.

She's confused by the notion that Simon's life isn't important because of just how much she values it. How she had no option but to save him, or be locked back into that dark place she entered when that horrible trial ended - knowing she's failed a dear friend because of how foolish she is.

[bird-inacage]

Only Friends: Ray x Sand in Episode 2 Preview

This episode is likely to follow Ray and Sand's burgeoning friendship after their 'truce'. And we're off to see Ray's plush home. (Can we talk about Ray's furry cardigan look? It makes him look so smol/soft).

What I noticed is that Ray does not look stir crazy drunk here, if at all. That's a considerable green flag because Ray is choosing (whether unconsciously or intentionally) to spend time with Sand whilst he isn't massively under the influence. And alcohol is a huge crutch for him. There's something about this that warms my heart, especially when his group of friends love drinking and getting raucous - it's sort of reassuring to see Ray spend time with someone just as he is.

"That girl at the bar was cute. Is she your type?" "Has any guy hit on you before?" This is very early 'testing the waters' and being nosy dialogue. Ray's trying to see how open or personal Sand can be with him, whilst also finding out which way Sand swings.

Ray does find Sand attractive, but it's more curiosity or intrigue each of them has for the other at this stage, rather than anything overtly romantic. Besides, Ray still has feelings for his best friend at present.

Another little detail is Ray has records mounted on his walls, so seems to also have a keen interest in music. The two are seen record shopping together later on. We're also going to get the cigarette kiss. (Lord please explain to me why on earth they are so ungodly hot when smoking?)

Sand stays the night at Ray's, but seemingly just to sleep. Ray even does a sneaky peek at Sand as soon as he wakes up. It's actually adorable to see how clingy Ray is with Sand already. This boy clearly feels very comfortable with him. I mean - one night of friendship - and let's cuddle? Ray is obviously someone who likes being physically affectionate or touchy feely. It does make you wonder if he lives in a huge house all by himself and is understandably lonely.

This is also where Sand suggests he see a shrink (which is delivered partly in jest but also somewhat seriously). Could be a comment on Ray's drinking problem, or something further comes to light during their heart to heart that Sand picks up on.

Now this is the intriguing scene for me. Ray is wearing the same outfit he does at the strip club (white shirt, denim jacket number). It looks like Sand ends up crossing his path and is not happy with what he finds - as he's seen storming away. Firstly, what is he doing there? Did he follow Ray? Or is he also there by coincidence? Secondly, is this jealousy or he just doesn't approve of what and why Ray is there? Thirdly, Ray seems compelled to explain himself when Sand reacts in this way. Ohh am I sensing a pattern: (Ray does something to upset Sand, Sand gets in a huff, Ray pleads for forgiveness, and then they kiss and make-up. Cough.)

They seem to end up at Ray's house again. Unless this is actually the other way around, and they pre-drink at Ray's before heading to the strip club together.

My understanding is they don't sleep with each other until the kiss at Sand's place (on his balcony). So I'm guessing this episode is mostly going to be these two getting to know one another better.

[rpking99]

Love Of Rivals

Closed with @the-blackbird-roleplays

Closed from here

John smiled at the two beautiful women who'd quite literally fallen into his life. He sighed softly, managing to get them both to calm down after a rather skillful use of his soda guns and dousing them both in arctic-cold water... Which led to now. Their clothes drying, and the three of them in only their underwear and in his bed in the apartment above his Crescent City bar.

"I hope so. Have to get you two to pay me back for the roof somehow..." He grinned, slowly crawling forward and nestling his hips between Kim's thighs. "It'll cost me a few grand to get the glass ceiling fixed... Few hundred more for the tables and chairs... I wonder how we can work out that... Arrangement~" He was speaking in jest, though only partly. In truth, the moment he saw them aggressively making out as he dried their clothes he knew how the night was going to go...

"Well, I think taking Kimmie-pops first time will be good enough payment. Don't you think~?" Shego hummed with a grin, teasingly running her fingers along Kim's blue panties. Right along her covered slit

"Mmm~! Aah!" Kim shuddered out with her eyes flickering back a bit, a smile forming upon her face "Mwans I get first round? I'll take it."

[sheloves-toomuch]

Chapter VIII WIP: Out of the Hells

In this chapter, we discover just how far Orin is willing to go to get revenge on the sister she despises- even if it means taking her place in Astarion's mind.

Content warning: Adult themes, suggestive and explicit content, fantasy violence, and memories of Astarion's past trauma. Orin the Red's shapeshifting antics and manipulation.

As always please let me know what you think of this work in progress- what you liked and didn't like, and what you hope to see in the rest of the story. I didn't proofread just yet, just posted it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Amidst all his turbulent inner thoughts and the uncomfortable emotions that were chasing him tonight, Astarion turned his eyes to the water beneath the glowing moon on the wide open beach. The waves danced upward as if to reach towards the stars, begging for the chance to take flight in the night sky.

"A bird may love a fish, but where would they live?"

Astarion despised the feelings within his chest now, the feelings that he had repressed and hidden away for two hundred years. Anger and resentment muddied any semblance of respite he tried to chase this evening- and he felt that the progress he had made in coming to terms with his simple plan was dashed now.

But he was feeling, after all. For the first time in two centuries he was feeling. He wasn't mindlessly and soullessly pacing the streets at night in his endless hunt for his master- his otherworldly hunger eating away at his will to go on for another moment.

Just as his eyelids began to grow heavier, he noted something stirring within the shallow waters in front of him. His eyes snapped open and he could have sworn his undead heart did a flip in his chest. The crystalline ripples of the water that had been crashing onto the sand parted slightly to reveal a familiar face.

"Zenosyne?" he called out.

"Astarion."

"What are you doing?" He asked, and inwardly chiding himself for the silly question. Of course she wanted to be in the water, for her own sake. The siren craved the sea, naturally.

"Oh, Astarion." She called again, gesturing calmly for him to join her.

Her hands reached out towards him as she emerged from the sea- her skin glowing with the blues and greens of the evening sky and the setting sun. She looked the same, but different. She didn't wear the colorful beads that often adorned her chest, but black pearls gathered around her beckoning form instead. Some of the strands loosely hung from her neck, and some sat tightly on her wet skin- the flesh underneath sensuously begging to be set free. He let his eyes wander for a moment. He wanted to pull at the pearls and watch as the strands broke into a million pieces under his grip, like stars erupting from the heavens only to reveal what he desired beneath.

"Oh, Astarion what?" He asked incredulously. He rolled his eyes with feigned annoyance. The siren's attention was fixed on him still, each movement he made studied by her eager eyes. He walked up to the shore where she lay now, and stood over where she rested out in the shallows. His eyes darted back and forth between hers', trying to ascertain whether or not the dark urges had been settling in her mind again. She did seem different somehow, but it was not the dark urges that he saw in her far-off gaze.

The siren reached up to him again, her hands running over his sand covered torso. She kneeled with her shimmering tail still partly beneath the waves, and the water pooled around them both with bubbling foam. When each wave crashed up onto the shore, it crashed into their bodies- pushing and pulling them in every direction. It was as if the sea were pulling him closer to her with each rushing tide.

"I can see this very scene being the cover of our spicy little novel." He jested, hoping to rouse a giggle from her. She seemed utterly serious, and he wanted to see if he could chip away at that hardened exterior of hers' once again.

She didn't blink an eye- but a tiny hint of confusion was evident in her countenance. She didn't seem to dwell on this, though, pulling on his arms with more force than she had ever used before when toying playfully with him.

Astarion fell down onto his knees along with her now, the water splashing violently into their faces- his silver hair now wet and clinging to his pale neck. He felt that sensation again- the one where he thought his undead heart might be beating again as she grasped his face with dominant resolve.

He wasted no more time, and his hands pulled gently at the black pearls that were between her skin and his. He pressed his chest up against hers' for leverage, and let his knuckles pale as he wrapped his fingers around the glistening strands with more force. It brought her chest upwards and forced her shoulders back, her face tilted to the sky.

"Say the word." He whispered. His lips were inches from Zeno's, and his fists remained tightly wrapped around her pearl top.

"Please."

[lemongrace]

As I am Now

In the dark, a hand reaches out. Her hand. Yet its shape is alien, twisted into that of a beast; azure talons clawing at nothing, desperate for help that refused to come. And so she calls out into the black void, only with a voice that isn't quite her own - instead of words, a blood-curdling shriek tears through the silence and then–

A sudden flash of white-hot pain yanked Eluein awake when drops of purifying salve fell on the torn flesh of her shoulder, leaving the Highborne gasping for air in shock. The solution sizzled and foamed as it seeped into the wound, cleansing the fissures left in the wake of the corrupted arcane growth that had threatened to overtake the entire limb; with the excess of magic expelled, a broken, scarred arm was all that remained.    

“Awake at last.” The sorcerer’s deep voice resounded with a soothing whisper. The same voice she had heard before her consciousness slipped away back in Tel’anor, thinking it no more but hallucinations of a dying mind; the ghost of the father risen from the grave to guide his daughter to the afterlife– hell, without a doubt.

But as she jerked her head to regard him properly, it was clear Vreis was neither an apparition nor a trick of the light. Sat before her in the flesh, the once Lost Patriarch gave a reassuring half-smile, dismissing the vial with a languid wave of the fingers.

“Rest easy, you are in my study. Safe.” Before she had a chance to ask, Vreis answered the unspoken question that first came to mind, noticing the uneasy glances Eluein cast about the chamber. [i]“Give me your arm.”

The air was heavy with the scent of old wood and even older tomes, the tall shelves that lined the walls curving under their weight. Little light came through the windows hidden behind the heavy veil of dusty curtains, leaving the room at the mercy of a single arcane lantern hovering above - its pale glow stung to look at directly. The divan creaked as she shifted her weight upon it, averting the eyes from the light.

"Elueinthel." The nearly-forgotten sound of her full name snapped her attention back to him in an instant. “Your arm.”

Heeding his request, she lifted– or rather tried, grunting as it dangled loosely on the side despite her attempts. A futile effort acknowledged by the Sorcerer's thoughtful hum.

“This will hurt.” Vreis warned as he reached out towards his daughter, though not with ill intent. "But only for a moment."

A snap of the fingers produced a roll of bandages, the acute smell of herbal remedies filling the room in an instant - Kingsblood. The words hardly brought forth any reaction - pain was something she had become intimately acquainted with.

It came with a sting - the touch of the moist dressing agitated the torn skin that protested against it. But as the healing properties eased their way in, so did a wave of relief follow; wrapped from the neck to the very last digit of her left hand, she found the ache tolerable at best. An improvement from unbearable.

"Were it not for the reputation that seems to precede you, I would send for a healer." The Sorcerer jested, if only partly, sinking back into the chair.

He appeared so small and frail now compared to the Father she remembered, shrunk by an invisible weight that rested heavy on his shoulders. From beneath the dark brow, a single eye blazed with a familiar look of determination; the embers of the paternal warmth were dimmed - not extinguished.

But instead of comforting, it irked her. How could he have the audacity to look at her like that after staying away for so long. After choosing to remain in the shadows for the most of her– their lives.

Reduced to mere glances, the two stared at one other in silence - each unable to bring themselves to address the question that hung in the air like a blade threatening to fall at any moment; more willing to suffer its slow descent rather than be the one to wield it, well aware of the carnage that had the potential to follow.

A coughing fit of the bed-bound Highborne ushered an end to the awkward stillness. Raising from his seat, Vreis quickly grasped at the opportunity to flee the shadow of the looming argument about to unfold - finding an excuse wasn’t an issue.

“Should I brew us some tea–”

“Where have you been?"

It came abruptly and without warning; at once, the blade fell and forced the elf into a halt. Breathing a haggard sigh, the Sorcerer turned with an apologetic smile - the confrontation was inevitable. He had only expected it to come later rather than sooner.

“You ought to rest, my dear. We can have this conversation another time– and you will find yourself with an excess of it for quite a while.”

“No.” The strained voice protested as Eluein mustered what little remained of her strength to push herself up. “I already waited. Held onto hope until we decided to finally bury what little memory of you remained– and then I waited still, despite knowing better. But you never returned.”

The healthy palm tightened into a fist without her realising. Despite the cut that split her face, a parting gift of Duskborn's conjured sword, she knitted the brows into a frown - the intensity of her glare was entirely new to him.

"So I ask you again. Father." Eluein pressed, but not without difficulty - the word near stuck in her throat entirely. "What reason did you have for leaving us?"

For leaving me. Yet she dismissed those words, realising how infantile they sounded– words of a child crying out for justice she thought she deserved. But in the moment she desired nothing more than that shallow validation. For someone, anyone to acknowledge that the responsibility which fell upon her in the absence of the elder was unjust and unfair.

"It was for your own good - and for your protection. What connections, what enemies I had made during my absence would have threatened us all upon my return." Vreis explained, but not nearly well enough for Eluein’s ire to subside. The sentiment only served to further fan the flames. ”You are within your right to disagree, and hate me for it if you so wish. I only ever had your well-being in mind - and with every week that passed, there would not be a single day where I did not agonise over that decision."

"Never has one made altruism sound so self-serving." She chided, fangs flashing with a derisive snarl. Warmth formed underneath her eyelids, millennia worth of tears finally struggling to be held at bay. "You fled, and because of your cowardice, our family fell apart. One by one."

Their mother was the first. And though Eluein more often than not thought of her death as a positive, its sheer impact was enough to form cracks so deep none of the three siblings would ever see themselves as whole again. Such was the price of his absence.

"And now you return– how dare you come back now, when I am this?!"

The chaise lounge creaked, struck by the Highborne's fist. For the first time since his disappearance, Eluein finally allowed herself to break into a bitter sob.